daylight hours
Ozzie and Ben
sitting at the picnic table
as sunshine danced on the board
chess match underway
lasted all day, every day
till knights and pawns cast long shadows
elders’ eyes straining
they would bid farewell
violet sunsets escorted them home
many stories they shared
some repeated, but neither cared
one brisk fall morning
Ben waited for his friend
hours on end
until the orb began to sink
fading light from the spectral sunset
an usher of regret
Ben sauntered past Ozzie's home
black wreath on the door, a herald of loss
Ben cast chess pieces on the street
no longer wanted to compete
after that day
Ben’s zest for life faded away
sun made its daily journey across the sky
but Ben rarely rose from his bed
twilight hours found him there still
recounting the past
tales he and Ozzie had told
in his mind never grew old
Ben realized the sun would continue on
although he could not do the same
memories locked within his heart
shadowed recollections of a fallen chess king

Strangely bent this journey extends
Surreal at times, yet so real at ends
Each end confronts with a hardship of choices
With an abrupt passing, or an eternity of voices...
You and I, once on similar trends
Like brothers, we traversed all evil impends
The wheels then turned, unleashed worst of fears
We parted asunder on an ocean of tears
Through fallen decades, aggrieved heart sustained
I found my calling, forgot I was pained
Just when the going got peaceful and boring
Gales of anguish, and war started pouring
Again, I was forced to extinguish my wills
Left home for those in need of my skills
Forced to welcome the worst of thrills
A reward for one with the highest kills?
As we splattered blood on uncertain causes
Strode down the road of victories and losses
A vessel, merely, I was as I killed
Of sons, of husbands, of fathers, I spilled
In the heat of the battle, as I charged through
When my craving eyes met the eyes of you
That instant, that second, that moment, I knew
Neither decades nor ages could help subdue
My faltering sword could no longer fight
For whom I now behold in my sight
And I question my vow, having vowed despite
Whether or not my cause was right
Yet again, I stand on the recurring hill
In the midst of havoc, at a standstill
A piece of land that I swore to defend
Is it worth the life of a brother, a friend?

The old screen door still welcomes me
as if it knows me, from before...
But after this...who'll pass this way?….
Will they use the rug and wipe their feet?
Erase away the grime and sleet?
.....Or will they even care?
I feel my pulse and lungs collide
then, take a breath...and step inside
She had lived alone, the last to go
one somber dawn, in the old brownstone
No other sign her time was near
and silently, without fanfare....
death tiptoed in on hard wood floors
and took more than a glimpse of her
I've been asked to come, to clear the house
to organize, and set it right…
This all seems wrong….
to trespass on the throne of life
that was softly lived, behind the gate
where thirsty roses bloom, and wait…
I hesitate….
to disturb the lace on drop leaf tables…
disgrace the quiet of the gloom
open drawers, snoop and sort, ….a pruning,
of the good, the used, from worn and torn
My hands are able, but my heart declines..
what isn’t mine, to toss, to find, to mark, and label…
Echoes of her old straw broom
still follow me through every room,
while dust motes in the window light
are like glitter in the afternoon…
Where is the charm that used to be
where cozy logs had offered light
keeping the long nights warm?
The whirling sound of winds outside…
whispered breaths of weaving looms
old treadled sounds of sewing hems..
peddled feet, and bustling, rustling
and those of clattering pans and potting blooms…
There are questions I want to ask
tho’ I can’t recall just what they were
no matter now….with no one here
I must be focused….on my task…
it must be done…
And now, …as doors of dark close in
I see, somehow, that fate has planned….
I am glad that I, with my two hands…
have witnessed with a smile within,
this cherished life, until the end
Within four walls, I hold it all
and now I know, what mattered most
Her life is held in loving hands
I stand here in the halls of night
content, I'll leave without regret
companioned by a day well spent…
I've been within …her company
....................................................................................................................

Life and death across the sky
some must live and some
must die
Broken wings and slivers
showing
Shredded hopes the
wind is blowing
Feathers flying, hear the
call
Of the Night Hawk
through it all
Terror blotting out
the stars
Talons leaving
battle scars
Life and death across the
sky some will live and some will die.

Koorosh the Great, Friend
All of my heart
One tear
Or one Monsoon
No amount, no grandeur
Can express the sorrow
Oh yes, I am sad, I am saddened
I am in sorrow
I am swimming in the darkness
I am missing something
That can not be said in words
Koorosh the great was a prophecy
For only now have we seen
The truth of greatness
Not by Victory, but by kindness
We are blessed to have seen
How simple life can be
Love your life
Your family
Your friends
Bring everyone laughter
Create, envision and dream
Everyone who knows you feels special
Your father taught you well
Kindness that transcended generations
In the end
A humble man
No god could make him bitter
He was as he always was and more
A kind man
Only when you remove a tree from the garden
Do you realize
The tree was the garden
The flowers bloomed for the tree
The people sought shade and comfort
Quietly, I weep
For him
For his family
For life
If all great leaders followed his path
What a beautiful world we would have
He inspired
He smiled
Corey, you are missed
Notes: Dedicated to my friend Corey Fazel who just recently passed away before his time. Corey, you will be missed by many many people. It is you with your friendly pertinence that got me to swim, and that alone has changed my life, I will remember the many evenings and dinners we talked about all things under the sun.
MSA is Multiple System Atrophy, a terrible and debilitating disease that attacks the nervous system. It has many of the symptoms of Parkinson, however from onset one has very few years of life left.

We’ve shared the trail, kicked up some dust,
An’ stood a storm or two.
We’ve rode the plains, the wide frontier,
The easy trails were few.
You’ve listened like some wise old sage
To ever thing I’ve said,
An’ as a friend, supported me,
No matter where it led.
I wished I coulda carried you,
The times you were in pain;
Or rustled up some kinda shed
To turn the blowin’ rain.
I’ve come up shy with some your needs,
You gave me more’n you got,
But in your silence, seemed to know,
I needed you a lot.
Compadre, friend, amigo, pard;
I called you all them things,
But there’s been times, I swear to God,
You musta had some wings,
An’ He sent you to care for me
Like no one had before.
If you’as a man an’ not a horse,
I couldn’t a-loved you more.
We gave this ranch our sweat an’ blood,
It’s yours as much as mine,
An’ raised our young’uns through the years,
An’ Lord they’re doin’ fine.
They’re blazin’ trails an’ raisin’ dust,
They’re off an’ runnin’ free.
We’ve taught ‘em well an’ made ‘em strong;
Compadre, you an’ me.
I always knew the day would come
When we would fine’ly ride,
To join the Maker’s round-up time,
Up on the Great Divide.
I sorta hoped we’d share the trail
But this was not to be,
So, you go on, we’ll ride again;
Compadre, you an’ me.

On the day the Lord calls me home I will not be
afraid as I know He loves us one and all and to this
earth we are only on loan
We have spent all our lives here with family and
friends and so we leave this earth to go home to be
with our Lord and our family and friends who have
gone home to Heaven before us
And so our lives go full circle as the Lord sent us
down from Heaven to accomplish the things He wants
us to do here on earth and as we complete this we will
be called back home to heaven to live forevermore
I am not afraid as I patiently wait for my call to
enter the Kingdom Of Heaven where I will wait for my
family and friends to come home and be with our Lord
forevermore.
Poems Of Inspiration (OLD) Contest
Sponsor: P.D.
7th Place Winner

Johnny was my best friend through our early teenage years;
Wherever one of us went the other could always be found near;
Until he found a girlfriend who soon supplanted me,
But because he was my best friend, for Johnny I was happy;
Johnny had a girl
He had a girl
Johnny had a girl
She rocked his world
Johnny had a girl.
Throughout four years of high school I was always the third wheel;
Going off often by myself, leaving Johnny with his girl;
They learned about biology outside the class room walls;
Johnny always had plans with her every time I would call;
Johnny had a girl
He had a girl
Johnny had a girl
Oh, what a thrill
Johnny had a girl.
One week before graduation, coming home from a date,
Johnny never saw the drunk driver until it was too late.
For three months in a coma, I sat by Johnny’s side;
I knew that when he woke up, someone had to tell him she’s not alive;
Johnny had a girl
He had a girl.
I took him to the gravesite so he could see it with his own eyes;
We stayed there for hours so Johnny could say his goodbyes.
Johnny got in his car that day and started heading west;
Nobody has seen Johnny since, I wish him the very best.
I’ve taken care of her graveside for thirty years and more;
If Johnny ever comes home again, we’ll be friends just like before;
Johnny had a girl
He had a girl
Johnny had a girl.

A path strewn thick with rusty leaves
led to nowhere and everywhere in our fantasies,
rescuing us from after school chores
and homework pages wrinkled in time;
a memory come and gone returns to me.
Back home, under a row of willow trees, I weep
for my childhood friend, for the innocence lost,
I thought I could keep, for the faded line
between joy and pain that suddenly
comes with age; I close moist eyes to see
you dancing in rain showers and climbing up
rays of sunlight, imagination uncaged;
running carefree for hours - just us, two,
whether skies were shades of gray or blue.
We said forever, a pinky swear I remember,
naïve in our make-believe world. How many years
passed by, distance growing between you and I?
A phone call once-in-a-while became just
a Christmas card once-a-year. I hope you always
knew the truth, I loved you, my dear friend.
Time cannot erase our laughter caught
on the autumn breeze and the childhood secrets
shared on that path strewn thick with rusty leaves,
trodden bare each year come fall of winter snow.
Our laughter now echoes in dreams, chaffing
the row of willow trees still sulking low,
moss brushing tears in timeless beauty,
waiting for you to come home.

I sat quietly and waited, making the noises he had come to know, calling him in his newly given name. His face would appear, cautiously calculating my intent, he would approach. The promise of food and gentle touch too much to deny. And so we did the “Little Prince’s” taming dance, each aware of the other and the possibility of betrayal.

Our meetings continued, less cautious greetings, more welcome contact, minimal conversation. His coat was becoming more ragged in spite of attempts to keep it up, his gait slowing as our good-byes became short walks together. He could not leave his place, his home, even though it had left him – alone, to fend for himself.

hoarfrost in retreat
sunrise gently awakens
friendships warming blood

He withdrew – I would wait, quietly, whisper the name he had come to know, make the sounds that signaled “all clear”. I searched for him, stood silent and listened for his weakening call, shed tears in the cold rain of November. His last call, a feeble attempt at good-bye, led me to him. Alone, cold, hungry, he lay there, rolled his eyes as I cradled his cold and fading spirit. He shivered – and left.

Reveled in ancient times, words escape from the crevices of nature
Through soils that many have tread
The living and the dead
Eat everything and take a great big look
Something is waiting for you—someone is there for you
The history of mankind will not tell you otherwise
The vines of truth and peace surround your being
You are something new and true
And the words are willingly fleeing from my grasp
Life is a spinning top—it spins as long as you keep it going
Manmade trinkets are concepts of lives untold
Objects hold energy that are more powerful than mere words
The feeling behind the whole of it all is all too satisfying
Listen to the breeze
It whispers riddles that lift the spirits of the deep
I can hear it calling
Can you?
Humanity has closed its breadth of hearing
But they can always reopen!
Consume me—let the fires of your passion envelope me
I want to know everything I can before I leave this world behind
I want the living and the dead to be satisfied in luxuries
Luxuries of love, appetite, desire and cool water fire
There is a secret rhythmic chord in every brain
You must accept yourself
You must accept your surroundings
Let them curl all around you—let your heart turn from serpentine to
Clear fluid
Consume the waters
Consume me
Before the worms in the soil soak in what is rightfully yours
The earth will be your companion
Engorge what you may . . . but respect

R.I.P. William Dale Eubanks
d. July 1, 2012, aged 68 yrs., Tennessee Ridge, Tennessee
Death came as no surprise
the first Sunday in July;
it claimed you, on a ridge in Tennessee,
with kin who took you in and waited with you
through the last hard days.
You kept what fears you had well hid,
did not betray with loud complaint
the fate you could not but know awaited.
A smile, a joke, a hug – exotic meals –
And genuine interest greeted all you met.
And you were, certainly, never boring
but well-traveled and smart
beyond the telling.
We’ll miss your wit, your bright demeanor,
and will remember all you freely gave ---
and what you took from us
with your passing.

The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark
The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark.

Eloquent, ethereal,
an artist through and through.
Her words alit on gossamer wings
as through our hearts they flew.
Each poem was written from the heart
and soul of our Linda Marie.
A visual portrait painted with words
for us, her audience, to see.
We thank you for your friendship.
You will be missed Sweetheart.
We thank you for the words you left us
before your sad depart.
Your beautiful soul, full of grace,
is in a far, far better place.
27/01/2014

You filled my lungs,
When I needed oxygen,
You were my energy,
Boosted me up like Supligen,
You were my sky-scraper,
Not just a tent,
You were my mortgage,
Not just the rent,
You were my mountain,
And we stood tall,
We played lifes' music,
You kept me glad,
Now your flesh has fallen,
But you are next to God,
Right to the end,
You were my best friend,
In my heart, until we meet again....

Gone are the days of childlike hope and dreams.
Our tender years were cast on life's broad streams.
Rich mem'ries float on waters still serene,
while thoughts drift past the seasons in-between.
That final bend of river not yet seen,
we set out seeking vistas new and clean,
where aging frame and psyche' still burn bright,
made strong and sharp as blades in morning's light.
We'd dream and see realities yet new.
Our aging forms, set free, would test as true
those aptitudes and skills not proved since youth.
The vision, quite sublime, has become truth.
We'd run the race as when young, full of drive,
to sense a new resolve, to feel alive.
The blood and air would surge deep in our chest,
hearts striving one more time to be the best.
Perhaps, we'd stand on mountain tops and view
our world and all its peoples kind and true.
If foes of that time bid earth-mates good will,
we'd aim from common fate all strife to still.
And, when the course of each life had been run,
we'd pray wise God affirms all was well done,
while setting each soul free from fated slings
he bids us soar on air that yields to wings.
To Soar

Bob had been a lonely man ever since
His wife of fifty years had passed.
“Lord, let me join her.” he would pray.
“Let this day be my last.”
Each day, he went to the cemetery,
Just a short walk down the street.
After their talk, he would water her flowers
And hear passers-by whisper, “How sweet.”
One gray and misty morning,
He had hoped for sunnier skies
To plant fall bloomers at her graveside;
But there, to his surprise…
Stood an old dog beside her stone;
Thin and dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as Bob approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”
He sat calmly as Bob planted flowers,
Carefully sniffing each one Bob put in place.
Then, after the last one was planted,
He sniffed it; then turned and licked Bob’s face.
Bob smiled. “I had a dog when I was young…
Pal…he was a mighty good one too.
So, if you don’t mind old fella,
That’s what I’ll call you.”
Pal may have been an old dog,
But he was smart and handsome in his way;
So they made a deal, Bob would give him a meal
And a bath, if he decided to stay.
Pal loved his bath, then rolled in the grass.
He slept on a blanket in the den.
In the night, he dragged it next to Bob’s bed.
He intended to be Bob’s best friend.
Pal was such a good dog, housebroken too;
Never made a mess or got in trouble.
He knew about newspapers, slippers and Frisbees;
And when Bob called, he‘d come on the double.
Yes, Pal gave Bob’s life new purpose.
A special bond of friendship was cast.
And never again did Bob pray,
“Lord, let this day be my last.”
For twelve years, the very best of friends,
Together night and day;
And so it was, until one evening,
Pal quietly passed away.
Bob held Pal in his arms and wept.
“Oh, Pal…my best friend…you saved my life.”
He caressed Pal as he reminisced;
Then, sometime in the night, Bob joined his wife.
The next morning, an old woman,
Tears welling in her sad and lonely eyes,
Brought fresh flowers to her husband’s grave;
But there, to her surprise….
Stood an old dog beside the stone,
Thin an dirty, but he struck a handsome pose.
He whined as she approached, as if to say,
“I could use a friend, you know.”
He sat calmly as she took old flowers
And put fresh ones in their place.
He carefully sniffed the fresh ones,
Then, turned and licked her face.
She smiled through her tears.
“I had a dog when I was young...
A good one too. His name was Pal.”

I sift through his Taoist rants
searching the brilliance and madness
for something to make sense; to inspire.
And he does not insult me
with the dust of dead men
though dust is what remains.
Ash falls through my fingers,
as promised, plenty of his own decay,
pure and uncontaminated,
his spirit whispering remembrance;
his legacy blowing in the wind
captured in my heart and lungs.
______________________________
*Loss contest November 3rd, 2012

A friend is always there for you
when you need them most
A friend will give the last they have
and, never brag or boast
A friend will always love you
just the way you are
A friend will come to visit you
no distance is too far
A friend will give you the biggest hug
on those days you need to cry
A friend will always go with you
and, never ask you why
A friend will always tell you
all the times that you are wrong
A friend will tell you..if you can't sing
when you try to sing a song
A friend will argue and make you mad
`til you can't stand..to see their face
That's when you both..go away for a while
and, give each other space
It's such an amazing thing in life
to have a wonderful friend
Who will share the good times and the bad
until the bitter end
I dedicate this poem to my best Friend
Greg Stack
May you rest in piece
Feb. 14th 2015

The physician offered no hope,
But why did you push me away?
You only said you couldn’t cope
To watch me decline, fade away.
As I approach my final day,
I long for a place in your heart.
I wish some support you’d impart.
This path is not one I had planned
And it’s not my choice to depart.
Please offer me a loving hand.

You left an open door,
And a stranger wandered in;
She straightened out
The cluttered rooms
And mended broken things.
She wiped away the dust
And stains from many tears;
She brought flowers, soft music
And candles for light.
. . . And . . .
I closed the door.

Alone in loneliness
Amid forever nights
And these four walls
In faint, whisper soft your name
I beg out loud to the nothingness that remains
"Please not another nightmare, no more storms"
But, answers are merely glimpses of light
From lightening...
Filtering through the pane
Empty sheets...
Cast empty shadows on the wall
Of places where you used to be
Eyes wide open
Now asleep, afraid I am to fall
Trapped within this never ending dream
I cling to all the memories that I have
Spinning me closer to where you were, in parallel on the edge
The thoughts, like imaginary rubble, comes tumbling passed
A fire for you still burning inside
Why can’t I let go of the tragedies last
And silence your unrescued suicidal screams
Or is it only the rain falling faster as it taps harder, and harder upon the glass
Or is it of your wandering spirit
Mockingly knocking?
Haunting with its vindications
Of "why’s" I can never seem to grasp
All this amidst lost stares into black windows
Where gutters overrunning, burdened by the strains
And I swear I see your reflection
Among the flashes, tracing out illuminations about your face
And for the first time
You are noticeably absent of all the worldly pains
And your lips releasing out a comfort that for so long I've been seeking
As I hear the words echo within my stormy heart "That where you are everything is okay"

your voice now silent
never to see you smile again
you left us heartbroken
unprepared
shocked to silence
we remember
your laughter and your
“I can go on attitude”
never complaining
just being you
even when fighting
this battle
we'll never know why
you had to leave us so soon
we'll always wonder
we'll always have questions
God knew your journey was complete
when He selected the perfect rose for His garden today---
IN LOVING MEMORY OF A FRIEND AND COLLEAGUE,
MICHELLE SCHULTZ 26092011
We, at BABS miss you already

I am the Blue Poet.
The uneasy man.
Who longs to be loved,
or just to have a friend.
My heart whisphers a low melody
on a faint, cool evening
thinking of her.
Once in my arms,
laying on my bed of roses.
Now she is gone.
I cannot think anymore!
It is hard, to love again,
When all your love has been taken away.
... I am the Blue Poet.
I am the Blue Poet,
That walks the bluish, dawn and dew covered streets
in the the October evenings and nights.
But I tell you, I wasn't always so blue.
No! I was once alive... happy... romantic,
... till Love went away!
Now I sit in the wayward poetry clubs,
drinking club soda and snapping my fingures
to a finished performance on a poem about love.
Written by a soft, spoken seventeen year old girl.
Soon, it is my turn to give my poem a read.
I stand on a lone stage, with a spotlight drownding me in blindness.
I face the faces, who look at me and smile.
A clap, and a cough, bring my head up.
I look out upon the sitting crowd.
To see that one face
that speaks to me,
without the movement of the mouth.
The face never showed though, and my head fell back down.
I start to read.
A vase of emotions kill me and swallow me up.
I try to hold back tears, but no more could I halter.
I finished, with a salty tear, rolling down my rough and oiled cheek.
I leave the crowd at ovation
and leave the women, all with tears in their eyes.
I come down from the stage, leaving the bright spotlight.
I shake hands, give hugs,
and collect my pay, and have another round of club soda.
Then, I go down the midnight alleyways of sprinkled city streets
finding myself a cozy room.
I think of her for a moment,
then off to sleep.
I dream of one time laughs, and hugs and kisses.
I cry in my sleep,
...For I am the Blue Poet.

Gathered in the shade of her quaint little garden,
where a trellis was woven with rose climbing vines,
something enchanting, had been deftly designed,
on an ordinary day, on a May afternoon.
A teapot was held, with her large knuckled hands,
to a bouquet of her friends, (also neighbors of mine),
by the most gentile’ of women, that I've ever known…
It felt like a scene from a time long ago, when decorum was proper,
and manners were too,
before composure, and poise,.. were a thousand years old,
where propriety still mattered, and was as precious as gold.
~
Lilting voices would chatter like the birds on the wing.
Laughter was singing, across fragrant grass,
Flower frocked ladies, around a few scattered tables.
Linens and laces, under ashes and maples.
Silver coifed hairdos, with apple cheeked faces,
And me? There I sat.... quite out of my place...
Drinking it in, in the cool, dappled shade. Taking a sip, with a small plate on my lap
~
Delightful surprises to bewitch the eyes…
Delicate confections, cucumber sandwiches,
made by her hand, for just this occasion.
Branches of jasmine, covered verandas.…
Rose petal blossoms, painted on china.
The most beautiful tea set, oh, how divine!
Envious eyes, covetously pined for it!
She wore a floppy garden hat, a dress of mauve, and there she sat.
Her weathered skin, her cheeks of rouge... a smile to love,...you would have too,...
She had lived a war, and more than one.....iron strong, a generous heart
Knowing eyes, and sparkling wit,
She would hold your hand in hers and smile,... listen well, of that I'm sure
and then would sip and chat awhile, of this and that…
and you would learn to love, somehow
~
I sipped my tea, and watched it all, and never thought of future things. ~
But now I sit here all alone…the chatter gone, the birds have flown.
Where once her charm, her love of life
the grand old ways, have slipped away
Soon after, in the autumn chill…word soon spread that she was ill
I was away, and never knew.….I hope, oh Lord, she was not alone ….
And looking back …I think of that….. and how strange the fact….. how odd it is…..
that something owned by someone grand, a china cup, so delicate,
so fragile in the hand,
can last beyond the grave...intact,….
although a dear, enchanting friend, her life would have to end…..
~ ~
_______________________________________________________

Missing Links
This passing year, another one of love and joy
with family...some sadness too within our hearts.
Good health, accomplishments, rewards we did enjoy.
But oh, our golden chain of friendships fell apart.
Some links within our golden chain were lost this year;
last year had twelve and now are left with only eight.
Our chain has weakened as we share each heartfelt tear.
Those missing links have made us more aware of fate.
Within one year, two gentlemen to heaven went;
their widows, still our dearest friends, we now embrace.
Another from our group with legs too weak and spent,
confined to home, too painful to keep up the pace.
And too, her dear companion...twenty years and more,
has moved so far away to live with daughter since
dementia has now settled in; our hearts are sore
to see him leave; we surely miss our gentle prince.
So often we spend time together out to eat;
our smaller group of golden links still joined with hands.
But oh, those empty seats, whenever we do meet,
make us aware how just one year can change life's plans.
Our chain has weakened as we share each heartfelt tear.
But still eight left, our links hold tight to face next year.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st place~
Contest: Second Chance
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Judged: 03/20/2016
~NA~
Contest: My Abiding Memory
Sponsor: Viv Wigley
Judged: 01/31/2016
Form: Verse - Rhymed Iambic Hexameter: 12 syllables and 6 feet per line

Hello dear friend – so – what’s new?
Tell me - How have you been?
There’s so much I want to share with you
But I hardly know where to begin
The news from here’s both good and bad
But life can be like that, I suppose
Most things are going well, though we’re all still sad
When we’ll be through missing you - no one knows
Are you an Angel looking down on me?
Or have you become part of eternity?
This letter will travel very far
By air-mail – on the wings of a dove
She’ll turn left at the Northern Star
Watch for her flying high above
With an envelope addressed “Care of Heaven”
I’ve sent it to you, with my love
Tell me - do you slumber, do you still dream?
Can you float on clouds all day long?
Have they got more than 31 flavors of ice cream?
Does a harp now accompany you in song?
Have you ever seen the face of God?
Are the streets truly paved with gold?
Do you spend your summers in Cape Cod
Head for Tahiti when the weather turns cold?
I know it’s silly to go on this way
But I wish you were with me today
This letter will travel very far
By air-mail – on the wings of a dove
She’ll turn left at the Northern Star
Watch for her flying high above
With an envelope addressed “Care of Heaven”
I’ve sent it to you, with my love
Sometimes, at the end of the day
I think I hear you softly say:
“I’m still here - I haven’t gone away”
Is that my heart playing tricks on me?
Remember that park - the one with the pine trees?
It’s as beautiful as it was back then
Whenever I visit I have sweet memories
And pray that we’ll see each other again
And so, dear friend, you’ll always be missed
I seal this envelope with a kiss
This letter has traveled very far
By air-mail – on the wings of a dove
I’ll think of you always, wherever you are
And picture you somewhere high above
Happy to be in the Care of Heaven
Enfolded in infinite love